Tuesday, July 25, 2006

Dear Pumkin

Dear Pumkin,
You really should come out and play with us. We’re all very eager to meet you and the doctor says you’re fully developed enough to have some fun in this rough and tumble world outside of Mommy’s tummy. I know it’s nice and cozy in there, and I know how much you’ll miss pummeling Mommy’s ribs from the inside, but consider the arguments below:




  1. You’re missing all sorts of wonderful opportunities for your grand entrance. All the great legends have a cool birth story for their heroes and there’s no reason you shouldn't have one too. For instance, last Wednesday, one of the worst storms to ever hit St. Louis ripped through town. Your Mom and I were without power all night. We played candlelight Uno and had to sleep in the basement to stay cool. We thought maybe you would take the pressure changes as a sign to depart so that you would emerge against a backdrop of a darkened city. But you didn’t. And while we got power back the next morning, the rest of the city was not so lucky. Half a million people without power. By Friday the power company had restored power to about half of those people…just in time for another huge storm to rip through town again. Trees were ripped up and power poles smashed. Again, over half a million people were out of power. We lost power again and retreated to O’Fallon to stay with Dolly and Duran. We figured you might want to be a blackout baby and share the excitement of the labor with the O’Fallon crew who were housing us. It seemed suitably dramatic. But you opted against it.

    On Saturday, we got up early and went back home to check on the kitties and see if we needed to start unloading the freezer. We had just stocked up that freezer in preparation for your arrival and we were none too keen on loosing it all. But the freezer was still cold, so we decided to use the warm house as an excuse to venture out into the suddenly cooler weather and go to a peach farm to pick some peaches. The day was absolutely beautiful and I couldn’t help but remember the story of Momotaro, the Little Peach Boy. I thought maybe you’d decide to start your escape while we were picking peaches so that you could always claim Momotaro as an inspiration. But you didn’t. I thought maybe you were just unfamiliar with the story of the Little Peach Boy and his fight against the Ogres, so I read you the story that night as we lay in bed and enjoyed the newly returned air conditioning. I thought the story would motivate you to make your appearance while it was still technically the peach-picking day. But it didn’t.

    Over the course of the next few days, I held out hope that you would make your appearance while the city struggled to return power. St. Louisians have a long memory for this sort of thing and I figured you’d have fun being able to tell people you were born during the Great Blackout of ’06. You seemed less interested in that than I was. But, there is still some time, there are currently still about 150,000 people without power. However, your historic window is closing. And this may be your last shot at a cool birth story because I don’t think your Mommy has the energy for any more excursions. Which brings me to:



  2. Your Mommy is REALLY ready for you to get out of her. She’s loved having you along for the ride up to this point, but let’s face it…you’ve outgrown your current living quarters. You can’t stretch out any more and she can’t sleep or even get comfortable at all. You keep hitting a nerve that causes pain to shoot down her leg and your weight has caused just walking around to be difficult for her. Basically, you’re a world-ready kid still hanging around in an embryo’s house…it just doesn’t work anymore



  3. There are all sorts of great things about the outside world. Breathing, for instance. It’s pretty cool in its own right and it leads directly to the ability to cry. And I know you’ll really like crying. It’s just as fun as rib-kicking, but even more people can experience it.

    Eating is pretty nifty too. As wonderful as it must be to have nutrients pumped directly into you, I have confidence that you’re gonna love the boob-juice even more. Plus, eating leads to pooping…and that’s going to be all kinds of exciting for you.

    And then there are all the people out here who are just dying to meet you. People to hold you and bounce you and make silly faces at you. People to rock you and talk to you and tickle you. And there’s even one very nice person who is very much looking forward to barking at you. And none of this can happen until you come out and play with us.



In short…it’s time, kiddo. I think everyone involved will be happier once you decide to move on. I know it’s hard to say good-bye to the only home you’ve ever known, but trust me when I tell you that your new home will be even better. And while you’ve missed the Momotaro connection, if you hurry up and come out quick, you’ll arrive right around the time that power returns to all of St Louis. That way we can spin the legend of your debut as Pumkin: The Light Bringer. It’s got a nice ring to it, eh? And it can be yours if you just come out and play with us.

Love,
Daddy

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

I know these are the longest days of your life, Moonshot. But it will be over soon and then the real adventure begins.
I had a thought as to why the little princess won't come to the party. Maybe in the still of the night she pushes her little hand out and is met with all this heat from the 2006 heatwave. You know the old saying about touching a hot stove....you don't do it twice. So maybe we have to trick her into believing its cool out here. I know its a longshot, but Moonshot could lay on the bed in the "Pap Smear" position. Place a block of ice down near the nesting ground with a small fan running on the ice. I think it should take an hour or so, Cool the area off and wait for the reaction. Maybe little Pumkin will then decide to join her anxious family.
Let me know if it works...Love you all...Aunie Cee

Moksha Gren said...

Howdy Auntie Cee,
Thanks for the suggestion. However, Pumkin says s/he is quite comfy in a 98.6 degree environment so doesn't need an ice block. And Moonshot does not think that "an icy wind on my hoo-haa" sounds all that enticing.
Besides, things seem to be moving along now. Since about midnight last night, Moonshot has been having semi-regular contractions. They're still minor and pretty random, but they're steady...so we're hoping the ice block won't be necessary.